Matt Accused
by dinacarter
Summary: Two vicious crimes have been committed in Dodge and strangely all the evidence seems to be pointing towards the Marshal. Is someone trying to frame Matt? He has to find out before the whole town turns against him.
1. Chapter 1

**Matt Accused**

_x _

_Disclaimer: This fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only and is not intended to infringe or violate the copyrights as owned by VIACOM/PARAMOUNT, nor to realize any profits._

_Summary: Two vicious crimes have been committed in Dodge and all the evidence seems to be pointing towards the Marshal. Is someone trying to frame Matt? He has to find out who is behind all this before the whole town turns against him. _

_Rating: strong PG-13. This story contains graphic violence, coarse language and sexual innuendo that some readers might find offensive. Discretion is advised._

_x_**  
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**Chapter One**

_x_

The annual Ford County Sociable was always a big event in Dodge City; banners, announcing it had been hung all over town and thanks to Chester Goode, the Marshal's assistant, posters had been nailed to almost every building in Dodge.

It was mid-afternoon and the tall, gangly man was just nailing his last poster to the wall of the Stage Depot office, when his attention was suddenly drawn to the familiar sounds of the Stagecoach coming down Front Street. Chester abandoned his work and craned his neck to watch the coach draw closer in a cloud of dust. To him, its arrival was always filled with excitement; the thought of the places it had traveled often made him wish he could do the same. And then of course, there were the people it often brought with it; there had been some quite interesting ones over the past several years.

He shoved the hammer into his back pocket and straightened himself, wiping his hands on the front of his pants. Fidgety with almost child-like anticipation, he watched as Jim Buck, the driver slowed the Stagecoach to a halt in front of the depot.

"Howdy, Chester," Jim greeted him as he shoved the handbrake forward and began to climb off the high seat.

"Well, it's awful good to see ya, Jim," replied Cheater smiling. His eyes wandered to the door of the coach as Jim opened it. An elegantly dressed woman in her fifties emerged, holding on to the driver's hand. She hesitated for a moment, taking in her surroundings. Almost immediately, a frown appeared on her face.

"What are you goggling at?" she snapped at Chester, disdainfully looking him up and down. Startled, the young man took a step back and before he could think of an answer, she had already turned her attention to the clerk that had come rushing from the office to meet her.

"Welcome, Mrs. Bancroft," said the clerk politely with a funny little bow that Chester found rather ridiculous, "I already have arranged for your bags to be taken to the Dodge House."

"Good," she replied in a distinctly haughty tone, "now if you would take me over there as well." Her arrogant eyes briefly lingered on the clerk before taking a second, closer look at the buildings that lined Front Street.

"Certainly, ma'am," the portly man replied eagerly, either not aware of her tone or determined to ignore it in hopes of earning a nice tip. Chester guessed the latter.

"Please, follow me," the clerk then added, motioning the woman to follow him as began to shuffle down the boardwalk.

Open-mouthed, Chester stared after her.

"Well, forevermore," he muttered astonished, "if'n that don't beat it all...she was none to friendly now, was she?" Shaking his head, he turned to Jim Buck.

The driver scratched his stubbly chin.

"Yeah,...I s'pose that's the way them folks from St.Louie act," he mused.

With a final shake of his head he then proceeded to make his way inside the stage depot, leaving an astounded Chester to watch as the woman now disappeared around the corner.

_x_

The big barn dance tonight was on everybody's mind and Betsy Tanner was no exception there. The young woman had hurried through her chores and was now ready to join the rest of the town in the celebration. Her mind was occupied with thoughts of a certain young man that she knew would be there and a smile came across her face. Humming softly to herself, she set out to take the short walk into Dodge.

The tall man stepped from the shadow of the barn suddenly and without warning.

Before she had a chance to react, he had clamped his left hand over her mouth and wrapped his right one around her waist, picking the young woman up with ease. She struggled against him as he carried her into the barn, roughly throwing her to the ground when he had reached the far end.

Terrified, she tried to get to her feet but it was too late; the man was already upon her, pinning her to the ground with the weight of his body. Desperately, she tried to free herself, pushing hard against his chest but it was to no avail--

All she could see of her attacker were his eyes glinting above his mask. Her hand reached up, trying to snatch away the bandanna, but he was too quick for her; grabbing her wrists, he pinned her arms above her head with one hand, while he used the other, to tear her blouse. She tried to scream but his hand quickly moved back to her mouth, reducing her cry to a muffled wail.

"Shut up, or I'm gonna kill ya!" he whispered hoarsely, his mouth close to her ear.

Wide-eyed and numb with fear, she nodded as he slowly took his hand off her mouth. Swiftly, he grabbed a fragment from her torn blouse and stuffed it in her mouth.

Dizzy and too horrified, she was barely aware of his rough hands exploring her body and his knees forcing her legs apart as his weight pressed down on her.

Suddenly, her eyes widened as she stared at her attacker's chest; under his coat, glimmering in the moonlight that flooded the barn through the many cracks in the walls, she could see--a US Marshal's badge.

_x_

The big barn was overflowing with color, movement and noise tonight. The crowd was large and varied and it seemed as if half of Dodge City had joined in the celebration. There were cowboys and ranch hands, homesteaders and farmers alongside businessmen and other town's people.

The delicious smell of food was in the air and people helped themselves to the bounteous array laid out on long tables inside the barn.

Couples began to form on the bare dirt dance floor as the musicians swung into a spirited waltz. Tables had been set up around the make-shift dance floor to accommodate those tired of dancing or those who rather enjoyed something to drink while engaging in conversation.

"Come on, Kitty, you wouldn't deny an old man a dance now, would you?"

Smiling warmly, Doc Adams patted the arm of the red-haired young woman seated across from him.

Kitty couldn't help but return his smile; the town doctor always had a way of making her feel better. Only a few minutes earlier, she had been downright upset; Matt had promised to call for her and walk her to the Sociable, but instead, she had found Doc Adams and Chester Goode, the Marshal's assistant at her door.

Chester had launched immediately into a long explanation as to why Mister Dillon was going to be 'a little late' as he had so nicely put it, but that he and Doc would be glad to 'see her to the Sociable'.

Not wanting to hurt the feelings of her two friends, Kitty had accepted their offer even though deep inside, she had a suspicion that Matt might have had something to do with it.

Now she was sitting here amidst the laughter and music, far removed from enjoying herself.

"Oh, all right," answered Kitty resigned, giving him a little smile; she might as well try and enjoy herself--especially since the dress she wore had been made just for this occasion.

Satisfied, the physician rose and stepped behind her, holding the chair for her as she stood. Placing her hand in the crook of his elbow, Kitty allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

With a rather sour expression, Chester watched as Doc led Kitty away. His elbow propped up on the table, he cradled his chin in his right while his left hand was absently playing with his beer mug. He simply couldn't understand why old Doc always seemed to be the one who did all the dancing; after all, he was young and eligible, not that bad looking, and--he was the Marshal's assistant.

Chester let his eyes wander over the crowd; maybe one of Kitty's girls would come over and ask him for a dance.

His musings were suddenly interrupted when his eyes were drawn to the tall man that had just entered the barn.

He was tall indeed; towering over most people, Matt Dillon's eyes were searching the crowd.

Right away, Chester's arm shot up and he began to wave wildly at the Marshal.

"Oh, Mister Dillon," he hollered, "over here!"

Matt suppressed a smile at the young man's enthusiasm and began to thread his way through the crowd.

"Hello, Chester," he said, nodding at his friend when he reached the table moments later. He pulled up a chair squeezed himself into it, struggling to fit his long legs under the small table.

"Say," he then wondered when he realized that two of his friends were missing, "where's Kitty?"

The question obviously struck a wrong chord with Chester.

"Oh,... well," he grumbled sullenly, jerking his head towards the dance floor, "she's over yonder, a-dancin' with Doc."

Matt turned to look over his shoulder in the direction Chester was nodding.

There she was indeed, and she looked absolutely stunning, he thought. His eyes lingered on her new dark-green dress which molded tightly around her full figure and his heart began to beat faster. Suddenly realizing that he was staring, he cleared his throat and shifted his attention back to his assistant.

"What's the matter, Chester?" he teased with a grin, already knowing good and well what was bothering his friend, "if you wanna dance, why don't you ask Rosie over there?"

He tipped his head towards a rather voluptuous young woman who was sitting by herself on a chair in a corner by the food tables. She was contentedly munching on a corn cob, watching the dancing couples.

Chester graced the Marshal with a rather insulted look.

" Oh, Mister Dillon...you had to bring her up now, did you?" he declared indignantly.

He certainly didn't need any help remembering; the last time the Marshal had fixed him up with Rosie Hendon, the tops of his feet had been sore for over a week. The young man was about to launch into a long tirade when he was cut short by the arrival of Doc and Kitty. The music had stopped and the physician was leading her back to their table.

Matt half rose from his chair as he greeted them.

He inclined his head at both of them but his smile was only for her.

"Kitty...Doc," he said.

"Hello, Matt," replied Doc, nodding as he held Kitty's chair while she seated herself.

"I'm glad you decided to come after all," she remarked dryly, smoothing out her dress.

Her tone caused a slight wrinkle to appear between the Marshal's eyes, but he quickly decided it was probably smarter to ignore it.

"Well,... didn't Chester tell ya, I had to wait for Sheriff Wilkerson to pick up Bates," he said instead, and when Kitty remained silent, he added, now slightly annoyed, "I have a job to do, ya know--"

Kitty's raised an eyebrow, about to make a retort when she suddenly noticed the rumpled state of his clothing. His new shirt was stained with dirt and something else that could easily be mistaken for blood; his string tie, even though he had obviously made attempts at straightening it, looked anything but straight, and, to top it off--there was straw clinging to his good coat.

"Good heavens, Matt," she exclaimed, "what did you do to yourself?"

Frowning, she reached out and began to pick the straw off his coat.

Immediately, Chester began to do the same, but he quickly abandoned his attempts when the Marshal glared at him rather crossly.

"Well...goodness...jus' tryin' ter be neighborly...you don't have to be so uppity about it," the young man muttered offended.

Matt already knew that it probably wouldn't do any good, but he tried to explain anyway.

"Ross Yarker and some fella were fightin' over at Moss Grimmick's," he said, "I don't even know what got it all started--they were too drunk to remember. But I tell ya...they gave me a heck of a time, when I tried to separate 'em."

In an effort to appease her, he vaguely ran his big hand over the front of his shirt, only to find that the stains were now rather quickly spreading.

To her credit, Kitty didn't say a word; she simply arched her eyebrows when Matt cast her a guilty look. He remembered that she had bought him the shirt, and he felt bad for ruining it.

"Well," she sighed, suddenly pushing her chair back, "there's only one thing to do--"

She rose and gave Matt a resigned smile.

"Come on cowboy, let's go and clean you up."

Glad, that she wasn't upset anymore, the Marshal happily complied . He quickly scrambled to his feet and followed her through the crowd towards the back of the barn.

Maybe the evening was going to turn out all right for him after all--

_to be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The gay noises and music coming from the barn carried far out into the streets of Dodge. The night was warm and clear and the moon was shining brightly down onto the yard. The Marshal leaning against a barrel behind the barn, his arms folded in front of his chest, idly watching as Kitty wet a handkerchief at the pump.

Neither one of them was aware of the figure standing in the shadows of the building, watching them intently.

"Well, let's see what we can do about this," said Kitty resolutely in a rather business-like tone as she walked back over to him.

Resigned, Matt raised his arms off his chest to allow her access to his shirt and watched as she began to determinedly rub the stains with the handkerchief. Her expression quickly turned into a frown when she realized that she wasn't very successful.

Too engrossed in her endeavor of cleaning the Marshal's shirt, she hadn't realized that he had stolen his right hand around her waist. Playfully, he began to run the fingers of his left along the low neckline of her dress. Now he had her attention. "I like the new dress," he murmured in a husky voice.

Kitty looked up. His blue eyes were twinkling as he was smiling down at her and her face began to soften. Stains and straw momentarily forgotten, she gently wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face down to hers, placing a soft kiss on his lips. "You sure are a piece of work, Matt, you know-"

He flashed her a sheepish grin and returned the favor by lowering his face to hers, kissing her deeply.

When they broke apart moments later, Kitty held him at arms length and regarded his not only dirty, but now also quite wet shirt. "I don't know, if I want to show myself in there with you lookin' like that-" she mused, a sly expression on her face.

Matt caught on immediately. "Hmmm...I could walk you home, if you like," he suggested, eyebrows raised. A devilish smile began to curl the corners of his mouth and his eyes twinkled mischievously as he slipped his hands around her waist again and pulled her into his embrace.

Suddenly, their attention was drawn to a figure that came rushing towards them from the street. Letting go of Kitty, the Marshal straightened himself.

The young man was shouting excitedly and Matt recognized him at once as Reuben Tanner's boy, Nate.

"Marshal,... Marshal," he panted when he reached the barnyard. "Pa wants you to come over quickly-they're at Doc's place...hurry-" The boy bent forward, hands on his knees, trying to regain his breath.

Immediately, Matt tensed. "What's the matter, Nate?" he wanted to know, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Nate lifted his gaze to the lawman, still panting. "It's Betsy...someone hurt her bad, Marshal-" he gasped between short breaths.

At once, Matt turned to Kitty. "Go get Doc and Chester-" With a nod she rushed off towards the barn.

Moments later, the Marshal was on his way over to Doc's office, accompanied by the physician himself, Kitty and Chester. As they came up Front Street, they could already see Reuben Tanner's buckboard wagon parked at the bottom of the stairs. The farmer had just noticed the small group and was watching them approach.

Matt walked up to him. "'Evenin' Tanner," he said, nodding as he hooked his thumbs into the top of his belt. "What happened?"

Reuben Tanner's shoulders slumped as he pointed to the wagon bed. "She's in there, Marshal... found her in the barn, I did," he muttered quietly, shaking his head.

Matt looked over the man's shoulder into the wagon bed and saw the unconscious young woman wrapped up in a blanket. He could see the bruises on her face and his jaw tightened.

"We have to get her up to my office, Matt," urged Doc from beside him. The physician had pushed his way past the Marshal and taken a brief look at her.

With ease, Matt reached into the buckboard and scooped her into his arms. By the time he was carrying her up the stairs, a small crowd had already gathered around the wagon, curious to see what was going on.

Quickly, Doc unlocked his office door and stepped aside for Matt. Carefully, the Marshal placed her on the exam table while Doc busied himself with lighting the hurricane lamp and gathering his instruments.

Soon, they were joined by Chester and Kitty, along with Mr. Tanner and his son.

The room was silent and all eyes were watching the doctor as he began to assess Betsy Tanner's injuries.

Finally, Reuben Tanner said out loud what everyone was thinking, "She's gonna be all right, Doc, ain't she?"

The physician didn't answer right away; slowly, he removed the stethoscope from his ears and turned, thoughtfully running a hand through his scruffy mustache. "I can't find any obvious injuries, aside from a couple of bruises," he explained, "but, by golly, that still leaves the fact that-" He broke off in mid-sentence and drew a deep breath instead, rubbing his neck.

"What's the matter, Doc?" Matt wondered uneasily, stepping up to his friend.

Obviously flustered now, the physician took off his spectacles. He folded them slowly and pushed them down into his vest pocket. His gaze fixed thoughtfully on Betsy Tanner. "Matt,...it seems like someone forced himself on her-" he then said softly.

Matt frowned, not immediately understanding, "Forced himself-" he started to repeat Doc's words but then suddenly fell silent, comprehension now dawning on his face. Not sure what to say, he exhaled loudly, quickly running a hand through his hair.

"Oh, no-" Kitty bit down on her lower lip, clutching Matt's arm.

"You mean someone-" Reuben Tanner began to say but he found himself unable to finish-the thought was just too terrible. "I'm gonna kill that bastard!" he now hissed instead, clenching his fists in helpless anger.

"Now wait a minute, Tanner...it'd be good, if we knew who we're lookin' for first-" Matt tried to reason; although he understood Tanner's anger, he couldn't allow him to just go out hunting for the perpetrator, maybe even gunning someone down in the process.

The farmer regarded the Marshal with fierce eyes. "All right...you find him then, Marshal,...you find that bastard and then leave the rest to me-" he growled angrily.

Matt was about to tell Tanner that this wasn't the way the law worked but their attention was suddenly drawn to Betsy as she began to stir.

Slowly, the young woman opened her eyes, all the sudden jolting as she became aware of her surroundings.

Immediately, Doc was at her side, putting a calming hand on her shoulder. "Now take it easy... easy now, you're safe, Betsy-" he said to her soothingly.

As she stared at the doctor, the panic in her eyes began to gradually recede and she relaxed back onto the pillow.

Matt took a deep breath and stepped closer; his hands nervously twisting the hat they were holding. "Betsy," he began gently, "can you tell us who did this to you?"

Betsy didn't answer; wide-eyed, she stared at the Marshal and suddenly, she began to scream. Her eyes were now fixed intently on his chest.

Frowning, Matt looked down at himself and then back to Betsy, trying to understand what had upset her so.

Doc and Kitty tried their best to calm her down but it was to no avail-she was completely frantic now.

Kitty gently but firmly put her arms around Betsy's shoulders and talked to her soothingly while Doc hurried off to prepare some Laudanum to calm her.

The young woman wouldn't have any of it; now crying hysterically, she pointed at the Marshal.

"It was HIM-" she sobbed, "he done it...I-I remember THIS-" her finger shot out, pointing straight at his badge.

Completely startled by her accusation, Matt took a step back, for a moment too shocked to even think.

He was faintly aware that everyone now seemed to be staring at him. At a total loss for words, he regarded the crying young woman in stunned silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The mood at the Marshal's office was extremely subdued. Chester was busying himself quietly at the stove, dividing his attention between brewing a pot of coffee and heating some beans while the Marshal was leaning against the wall, silently staring out through the window into the empty street. He was still trying to comprehend what possibly could have moved Betsy Tanner to accuse him of the assault.

He was pulled from his thoughts when the door to the office was suddenly opened and Kitty, followed closely by Doc Adams, entered.

Matt turned from the window. "How is she?" he wondered quietly.

The physician pushed his hat back. "Well,...I finally got her to calm down; she's sleepin' now... Tanner and his lad are with her-"

"Hmm...that's good," Matt nodded absently.

The doctor stepped alongside the Marshal, scratching his head. "Now, why, in thunder, you s'pose she'd say a thing like that?" he wondered, looking up at his friend.

"I don't know, Doc-" Matt shrugged; he had been asking himself the same question for the last hour or so and hadn't been able to come up with an explanation.

"She sure's convinced her attacker wore a badge like yours-" continued Doc, now inclining his head towards the Marshal's chest where the shiny badge was contrasting with his not-so-white-anymore dress shirt.

"Yeah, I know that," replied Matt, his voice husky with annoyance. The whole thing was starting to make less sense by the minute and he could feel himself getting agitated again. It had taken him a long time to convince Tanner that he had nothing to do with the assault, and even now he doubted that the farmer had really believed him.

"Ya know," said Chester thoughtfully as he stopped stirring his beans for a moment, "there just aren't too many folks aroun' Dodge, a-wearin' a badge like Mr. Dillon's-"

"Oh, good heaven's Chester," snapped Doc immediately, "who asked you anyways? Why don't you just shut up an' go on back to makin' that dishwater of yours-" Irritated, he waved his hands towards the stove, prompting the young man to shoot him a rather hostile glare.

But as much as Doc didn't want to admit it-Chester had a point; he was thoroughly convinced that Matt had nothing to do with this but if truth be told, there was only one person in Dodge wearing a US Marshal's badge and this simple fact could be enough for some people to point their fingers.

"Well,...I'm gonna go up to Tanner's barn and see if I can't find somethin'-" said Matt suddenly as he turned from the window. He had the overwhelming urge to do something, even if it meant searching the barn in the middle of the night for any clues.

He tugged his string tie loose and stalked over to the gun rack. He passed Kitty and they gazes locked. Matt could read the worry in her eyes. She reached out and picked another piece of straw from the sleeve of his jacket. For a moment, she regarded it thoughtfully before dropping it to the ground.

"Matt...I'm sure, there's an explanation for this-" she said, trying to sound encouraging.

"Yeah,...and I aim to find it before the whole town gets the wrong idea," he said in reply, his face grim. He pulled a rifle from the rack and reached over the desktop to retrieve a box of cartridges from the drawer. "Come on,...I'll walk you home, Kitty," he then said, ready to usher her towards the door, but she stopped him.

"It's all right, Matt," replied Kitty, "I promised Doc, I'd give him a hand with Betsy-" Their eyes met for a moment but even though she was smiling, he thought that he sensed that something wasn't right. He decided to let it go for now.

"All right,...I see you later then," he muttered, letting go of her elbow and then turned to his assistant. "You comin', Chester?"

"Yes, Mr.Dillon-" He reluctantly abandoned his coffee, cast a final, longing glance at his beans and then grabbed his Winchester. Then he turned to Doc. "You can go ahead an' have 'em beans if you want 'em... they're gonna be ruined time I get back anyhow-"

The expression on the physician's face was less than enthusiastic but he refrained from commenting, instead, he nodded, mumbling a vague reply.

"Well...so long, Doc," said Matt, nodding at his friend from inside the open door. Not waiting for a reply, he pulled the door shut with a loud thud and the two men disappeared into the darkness.

Doc regarded Kitty thoughtfully for a moment. " By golly,...if I didn't know any better, I'd say someone's tryin' to set Matt up-"

Kitty had to agree. She exchanged a worried glance with him, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "I know...the question just is-who and why?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The next day came early for the Marshal; the sun had just risen on the horizon, flooding the jail with its light and he was unable to sleep any longer. Arms crossed behind his head, he was lying on his cot, listening to the lively chatter of the birds outside and Chester's even snoring.

His thoughts automatically turned to Kitty. Over the last five years he had spent most of his nights sharing her bed-not so last night. He still wasn't exactly sure why, but something had made him stay away-maybe it had been the way she had looked at him yesterday before he had left for Tanner's barn-he was almost certain that he had seen a faint flicker of doubt in her eyes.

After returning from an unsuccessful search, he had ended up walking Front Street, unable to sleep.

It wasn't before long and Matt had found himself in front of the Long Branch, watching her window; he knew that she was waiting for him but yet he couldn't muster up the courage to see her. Maybe he was afraid that she would ask him, make him tell her that he had nothing to do with what happened to Betsy Tanner. No, he had decided, Kitty should know him well enough by now; if she even had to ask, then-

He had lifted his gaze to the window again and saw that she had finally blown out her light. At that moment, Matt had felt lonelier than he had in a long time. Slowly, he had strolled back towards the Marshal's office.

He was just about to pass the Dodge House when he had caught something moving out of the corner of his eye. There, in the shadow of the overhang, leaning against one of the posts, he could make out the profile of a man. He was quite tall, Matt had observed and he hadn't looked familiar to him. The man bent his head to light a cigarette; he had waved out the match, tossing it to the ground and then had looked up. Even though it was dark, the Marshal could almost feel the stranger's eyes on him. For a moment, he had lingered but since there was no law in Dodge against staring, Matt soon had continued his walk.

He tossed himself around on his rickety cot as if trying to chase away his thoughts but his mind now drifted back to Betsy Tanner and he realized that he might as well get up.

He extricated himself from his blanket and sat on the edge of the cot. With a yawn, Matt stretched and then clambered to his feet. Grabbing a towel from the nearest chair, he trudged over to the washbasin.

For a moment, he gazed at his reflection in the mirror; a set of tired blue eyes, peeking out from underneath a shock of untidy dark curls, stared back at him. He frowned and ran a hand over his unruly hair in an attempt to smooth it down; he wasn't very successful and he made himself a mental note that it was time for a haircut. After splashing a couple of handfuls of cold water into his face, he felt a little better and he was ready for a good cup of coffee; that was Chester's department.

Matt glanced over to where Chester was still sleeping and he couldn't help but notice that his assistant's snoring had considerably increased in volume. A mischievous grin twitched the corners of his mouth as he pulled the towel off his shoulder, took aim and threw it at him. "Mornin', Chester..." he declared loudly, grinning.

Startled, the young man jumped, frantically grabbing at the towel on his face. It took a second or two but when he finally realized what had happened, he cast the Marshal a rather sour look. "Forevermore, Mr. Dillon," he sputtered indignantly, "did you hafta do that? I was just a-havin' me such a nice dream-" Yawning loudly, he began to rub the sleep from his eyes.

"Well,...you can dream on the way over to Tanner's barn," replied Matt as he buttoned up his shirt, "I aim to have another look around over there-"

By the time the Marshal and Chester returned from the barn, it was already mid-morning. Despite the help of the daylight, they hadn't been able to find any more clues as to who could be responsible for the assault. The two men were just coming up Front Street when Doc Adams crossed their path.

"Hello, Matt...Chester," the physician greeted them with a curt nod. For a moment, his eyes studied the lawman and suddenly, a slight frown appeared on his face." Say...you don't look so good, Matt-ev'rything all right?" he wondered, regarding the Marshal concerned.

Matt shrugged. "Yeah,...just a rough night," he said dismissively and then added, "How's Betsy, Doc?"

The doctor tugged at his earlobe. "Well,...she's back with her folks," he said, "I saw no reason for keepin' her any longer-"

The Marshal nodded pleased, "Well, that's good-"

Doc pulled out his watch and studied it for a moment. "Hmm...say,... you're hungry?"

Matt pushed his hat back and folded his arms in front of his chest. "Why?"

"Why?" echoed the doctor, frowning, "because I am, an' I'm fixin' to go for breakfast-" He shoved the watch back in his pocket and made a scoffing sound.

"You buyin'?" Matt now wanted to know; he was flat broke at the moment and wouldn't get paid for another week-but Doc didn't have to know that.

"Of course, I'm buyin'-now...you comin' or not-" groused Doc with an impatient swipe at his salt-and-pepper mustache.

That was good enough for Matt. "All right, I'm hungry...let's go-" he exclaimed, giving the doctor a friendly clap on the shoulder.

With the physician in the middle, the three headed up the street towards Delmonico's. They were just about to enter the restaurant when the Marshal suddenly noticed a man standing on the other side of the street. He realized immediately, that this was the same man he had seen last night.

Matt stopped to take a closer look at him. The man was very tall indeed; he was clad in dark clothing and he wore a black, flat-brimmed hat, the type that river boat gamblers often wore. His gun holster was resting low on his hips-proof, that he was probably quite handy with his gun. His first impression wasn't a good one; this man was up to something, he could almost sense it.

"Do you know that there fella, Mr. Dillon?" wondered Chester as he came to a halt beside the Marshal.

Matt shook his head slightly. "No-no, but I know his kind," he said thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on the stranger, "he's trouble, Chester, mark my words-"

If the man knew that he was being watched, he didn't give any indication; slowly, he began to stroll down the boardwalk and had soon disappeared from view..

There was no sense in going after him, Matt figured. After all, he hadn't done anything wrong yet-or had he? He turned and nudged Chester towards the door to join Doc, who had already seated himself at their usual table.

Their breakfast passed uneventful; they discussed the events of the previous night, trying to come up with an explanation for the badge that the assailant supposedly had worn.

Just as they were about to leave, the door to the restaurant suddenly burst open and Reuben Tanner came storming in. His hands were clutching a shotgun and he quickly raised it, pointing it squarely at the Marshal's chest.

Immediately, everyone froze and all conversation seized. The patrons were now staring fearfully at the gun-wielding farmer.

"I shoulda blown your head off yesterday, Marshal-" growled Tanner, his voice raw with uncontrolled anger.

Matt tensed imperceptibly. Slowly, he raised his hands so as not to provoke the crazed man any further.

Doc and Chester stood frozen on either side of the Marshal, their eyes glued to the farmer.

"Put that rifle down, Tanner," said Matt calmly but the farmer simply glared at him. "Come on-I said put it down..." he repeated, his voice more urgent now in hopes of persuading Tanner to end this without any bloodshed.

"Shut up, Marshal!" spat Tanner, "ev'ryone knows you done it...that fella I seen at the Long Branch figures you done it, too-Think 'cause you're a lawman, you can get away with anythin'!" He was breathing heavily and his eyes were burning with fury.

"You touch that trigger, I'm gonna shoot you-" Matt warned him, his eyes narrowing.

He knew that Reuben Tanner was no killer and he had no intentions of shooting him if he could help it , but he certainly couldn't ignore the danger the man currently posed either. Carefully, the Marshal began to lower his hands a little, his eyes intently fixed on the farmer's. He had to keep him from using that shotgun; a shot fired in such a close space would most likely injure more than one person.

He was now faced with the dilemma of potentially shooting a man that as far as he was concerned, had never been in trouble with the law until now.

For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other; suddenly, Tanner's eyes widened and Matt's right hand went for his colt. He lurched sideways, taking a shot seconds before the shotgun in Tanner's hands went off.

The Marshal's bullet struck the farmer's wrist and he staggered backwards into the door behind him. He lost his aim and the shotgun sprayed its projectiles harmlessly into the ceiling of the restaurant. In a flash, Matt was on top of him, wrestling the gun from his grasp, throwing it aside.

A far cry from the raging madman that he had been only a moment ago, the farmer was now sitting on the floor, moaning and clutching his bleeding wrist.

Matt bent down to retrieve his hat, then he took hold of the farmer's arm. "All right, Tanner...on your feet," he growled. Effortlessly, he pulled the man up. "Get his gun, Chester," he then addressed his assistant.

Up to know, the young man had been frozen to the spot; now he moved quickly, picking up the shotgun.

"Well,...I ain't never seen such thing... jus' plump crazy- " he muttered to himself, limping over to the Marshal's side.

The patrons had begun to relax again and resumed their conversations when they realized that the Marshal had the situation under control. Talking loudly among themselves, some were now stealing quick glances at him, recalling to each other the events of the previous night. The expressions on some of the faces weren't exactly those of relief; on the contrary, there was suspicion on quite a few of them.

Matt was well aware of it; grimly, he slapped on his Stetson and turned towards the physician. "You comin', Doc?"

The physician nodded, and grabbing his black leather bag, shuffled along after the Marshal.

Neither one of them paid any attention to the elegantly dressed woman that was standing on the boardwalk, regarding them with a strange satisfied look in her eyes as they left the restaurant.

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A short while later, Reuben Tanner was sitting at the table in the Marshal's office, watching in silence as Doc was bandaging his wounded arm; the bullet had simply grazed his forearm above the wrist, leaving no more than a fleshwound.

Matt was leaning against his desk, arms folded in front of his chest. "I want you to tell me about that fella from the saloon, Tanner-" he began to question the farmer.

"I ain't got nothin' to say ter ya, Marshal-" the man replied in a resentful tone, his eyes stubbornly fixed on his injured arm.

Matt took a deep breath, pushed himself off the desk and crossed over to where Tanner was sitting.

Putting his hands on the table, he bend down to him. "I s'pose, it wouldn't do any good if I told you again, I had nothin' to do with what happened to Betsy-" he said, his voice husky with annoyance.

Slowly, Tanner looked up, meeting the Marshal's gaze. Then, suddenly, he turned his head sideways and spat on the floor.

"Well, fer goodness sakes-"exclaimed Chester, frowning, "what'd ya do that for, anyways?"

Matt pressed his lips together and drew himself up. He realized that he wasn't getting anywhere with Tanner. "Chester,...I want you to lock him up...I have a feelin', I might know who this fella is and I'm fixin' to have me a talk with him-"

He grabbed his Stetson from its peg and turned. "I see you later, Doc..." With that, he slipped out the door.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Matt didn't have to go very far; as soon as he approached the Dodge House, he saw him. The tall man was perched on a chair on the plank boardwalk, watching the Marshal crossed the street. When Matt had almost reached him, the man stood up. His shoulder casually hitched against a post beam, he now shoved his right hand into his pant pocket, pushing his coat back, exposing his revolver. His gaze was lazily fixed on the lawman, eyeing him with deliberate indifference.

"Howdy," Matt nodded, quickly sizing the stranger up. Now that he was able to get a closer look at him, he liked even less what he saw; the man's eyes were hard and deadly and the deep lines on either side of his mouth gave him a distinct cruel look.

The stranger didn't bother with formalities. "Somethin' I can do for ya, Marshal?" he drawled lazily, looking the lawman up and down.

Right away, Matt tensed; he definitely didn't like the man's tone, much less the way he looked at him. "Depends-you got business here in Dodge, mister?" he wanted to know, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"My business is my own," the man replied coolly, "an' the name's Kincaid,... Ross Kincaid." He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket and then added, "say...you got somethin' against me, Marshal?" His tone came across as almost challenging. He struck a sulfur match on the post and lit his cigarette.

Matt inhaled deeply and pulled himself up to his full height, hooking his thumbs into the top of his belt. "No,...no, not yet, Kincaid-unless your business becomes mine-"

"Well,...then I'll have to make sure that won't happen-" replied the other, his voice mockingly soft.

The Marshal suddenly noticed a strange glint in his eyes. "You do that-" he advised, his eyes boring into Kincaid's for another second or two. He silently resolved to keep a close eye on him from now on. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, Kincaid's contemptuous laugh following him.

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Even though Matt knew that the Long Branch wasn't open for business yet, he still headed straight towards it; by now it was almost noon and he figured, Kitty would be getting the saloon ready for the afternoon crowd. He paused just outside the batwing doors, quickly letting his gaze sweep over the bar room; there she was-standing at the counter, going through her ledger-and she was alone. That suited Matt just fine. Swiftly, he pushed the swinging doors aside and entered.

Kitty looked up briefly when she saw him approach.

"Hello, Kitty," he said, tipping his head as he stopped alongside her.

She gave him a curt nod, "Matt-" and turned her attention back to her books.

Matt raised his eyebrows; he had already half-expected a similar reaction from her-especially after last night. Undeterred by the less than friendly reception, he leaned his arm onto the counter and faced her.

"I want you to do somethin' for me, Kitty," he said, hoping that she would listen, "there's this fella, his name's Ross Kincaid-tall, dark hat-you won't have trouble recognizing him...I need to know who he's talkin' to...what he's up to-"

Kitty looked up; she knew Matt well enough to realize immediately that this was serious and she decided to put her personal feelings aside-for the moment. "What's goin' on, Matt? Does this have anything to do with what happened to Betsy?" she wondered, looking at him with uneasy curiosity.

He blew air through his lips, drumming his fingers on the counter. "I'm not sure yet-but I know this fella's up to somethin' an' I aim to find out what it is-"

Kitty looked at him sideways, her eyes searching the Marshal's face; she could always tell when he had a bad night and last night definitely had been one. The last of her anger now vanished. "You better go and get some rest," she said softly, folding her hand over his, "you look terrible-"

"Yeah," he muttered in reply, giving her a weary smile," I'm afraid I won't be gettin' much of that until I find out who did this to Betsy-"

"Oh, Matt-" Her heart went out to him as she recalled some of the remarks she had overheard earlier at Mr. Jonas' store and she felt sudden anger welling up inside her; she knew that Matt wasn't capable of hurting Betsy Tanner or any woman for that matter but already quite a few people in town seemed to think otherwise. Comfortingly, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Kitty," he now said quietly, picking up her hand and regarding it thoughtfully for a moment, "people

are startin' to talk-" he paused, taking a slow breath while he absently caressed her fingers. "Look,... you know me better than anybody-" he began once more but still the words didn't seem to come readily and he broke off again; why couldn't he be better with words, he angrily thought to himself. Deep inside, Matt already knew that Kitty believed him, but right now he needed to hear her say it; all day long, he had seen people stick their heads together and whisper whenever he had crossed their path. He knew exactly what they were talking about, the looks on their faces had spoken for themselves.

Kitty sensed his struggle. "You sure don't know a lot about women, cowboy-" she told him, smiling fondly, "but if it helps-I don't believe you did this to Betsy- She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips as if to confirm her words.

"Well," Matt cleared his throat, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed, "that settles that-" He straightened and affectionately patted her arm. "I better head back to the office...See you later, Kitty?"

"Later, Matt," she assured him with a warm smile. He was almost through the door when she suddenly called out to him. "Oh, Matt...about last night-I didn't sleep too good either-"

He turned and stared at her for a second; he knew it was her way of telling him that she had missed him last night. A quick smile flashed across his face before he disappeared through the batwing doors. As he made his way back to the jail, he felt a little better.

Little did the Marshal know, that his troubles were just about to get worse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

The rest of the day passed relatively uneventful; Matt and Chester had been taking turns to shadow Kincaid without much success. The man didn't do anything to indicate any wrongdoing on his part.

After an extended lunch at Delmonico's, he simply hung around town, watching the ongoings from a chair outside the Dodge House. Of course, the Marshal had realized that Kincaid was aware of being watched and it somewhat defeated the purpose of doing so, but nevertheless-it was important to Matt that Kincaid knew he was there, keeping an eye on him. Eventually, the man had strolled over to Moss Grimmick's livery stable and emerged minutes later with a horse. He had mounted up and rode out of town and as far as Matt knew, hadn't returned yet.

Now it was evening; the sun had just set beyond the horizon, its weakening rays giving way to the quickly spreading darkness.

Matt rose from the chair behind his desk and reached for his gunbelt. "Well, time to do the rounds, Chester," he said as he began to strap the holster to his hips.

The Marshal's assistant looked up from the old pot-bellied stove where he was hungrily watching some eggs sizzling in a skillet. "You reckon' we shoulda went after him, Mr. Dillon?" he now wondered, thinking of Ross Kincaid.

The Marshal considered the question for a moment; he wasn't sure whether that's what Kincaid had wanted. "I wish I knew, Chester," he finally replied with a sigh. He decided to check with Moss Grimmick later and see if Kincaid had returned the horse yet. With that, he grabbed his Stetson and left.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The night was warm and slightly muggy and the moon was hiding itself behind shreds of black clouds while the summer air was filled with the incessant rasping of crickets. Alone with his thoughts, Matt slowly strolled down one of the side streets on his way to the livery stable when all the sudden, a muffled scream caught his attention.

He froze, trying to determine where it had come from. As he was listening intently into the darkness, he suddenly became aware of a faint rustle behind him. Matt started to wheel around, his hand flying for the colt at his side but it was too late-out of the corner of his eye, he saw something coming towards him, hitting him hard on the side of the head.

His surroundings shrank out of focus and quickly dissolved into darkness as the Marshal crumpled to the ground.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first thing he saw when he came around were the blurry outlines of several people apparently staring down at him. Confused, he ran a hand across his face. He blinked several times, trying to bring the faces in front of him into focus.

With a groan, he slowly propped himself up on his elbows, squinting up at the men surrounding him. He now noticed with slight alarm that most of them were carrying guns, staring down at him with solemn expressions.

Thinking that he was having a bad dream, he closed his eyes and shook his head before opening them again_. No, they were still there_. Now even more confused, Matt began to wildly look around; he realized that he was in the side alley next to the livery stable and kneeling on the ground a few feet away from him was Doc Adams.

When the physician noticed that the he was awake, he turned towards him. "I take it you're all right, Matt?" It was more of a statement than a question and Matt noticed a strange undertone in the physician's voice.

Ignoring the question, the Marshal cast him a puzzled look instead, carefully rubbing the back of his head. "Doc...what's goin' on here?" he wanted to know, an indrawn hiss of pain suddenly escaping his lips as his hand came across an enormous lump.

The physician didn't reply right away; he ran a nervous hand through his mustache, studying the lawman in silence. His face was serious when he finally spoke. "Matt,...we got ourselves a problem here-"

The lawman just gave him a blank look, not understanding. Then his eyes noticed the outline of a figure lying on the ground in the shadow of the livery stable; it was partially shielded from his view by Doc's body.

Immediately, he jolted and tried to get to his feet, but as he did, several men stepped forward, pointing their guns at him and motioned him to sit back down.

This was too much for him. "Would someone mind tellin' me what this is all about?" Matt growled angrily as he looked up into the familiar faces of Wilbur Jonas and some of the other men that he had come to know as his friends over the years.

Nobody said as much as a word; they simply continued to stare at him in ominous silence and Matt was beginning to get the feeling that something terrible had happened-something terrible, somehow involving him.

Slowly, Doc rose to his feet and shuffled over to the Marshal. As he squatted down next him, he nervously rubbed his neck, hesitating, as if searching for the right words. "This is bad-" he began gravely, swiping at his mustache again, "you know who that is over there?"

Matt was beginning to loose what little patience he had left; his head was throbbing wildly and more than anything he wanted to know what had happened here. "No, should I?" he growled, not bothering to hide his irritation anymore.

Doc's next words came as a shock to him. "It's Aggie Conlan...she was assaulted and strangled...she's dead, Matt-"

Slowly, the Marshal's head turned towards the body, trying to make a connection. As terrible as this was, it still didn't explain why he was held at gunpoint by men that he considered his friends.

Doc was about to take care of that. He gently grasped the lawman's chin, tilting it sideways a little so that he could study his cheek. "You remember how this happened, Matt?" he wanted to know.

Hesitantly, Matt reached for the side of his face and he winced slightly as his fingers came across what seemed to be several scratches. When he withdrew his hand, there was blood on his fingertips. He numbly shook his head. _How could this be?_

But that wasn't all; the physician now reached out and tugged on a bandanna that was tied around the Marshal's neck; he had never before seen it but yet, there it was.

Matt closed his eyes, cradling his head in his hands; he felt as if he was slowly loosing his mind. _What_ _had happened here?_

Doc's voice jostled him from his thoughts. "This fella named Kincaid says he saw you stranglin' Aggie...he's tellin' everyone down at the Long Branch how he pistol-whipped ya to get you off her but it was too late-"

Matt's head suddenly snapped up at the mentioning of the familiar name. "Kincaid?" he whispered, "now wait a minute-" he then said, more loudly, slowly beginning to make the connection. "Doc,...listen to me," he urged but he was cut off as Bart Anderson stepped between them.

"On your feet, Marshal," said the freight clerk coldly, motioning with his revolver.

Matt took a deep breath; he realized that things didn't look too good for him. The situation had been staged too perfectly to leave any doubt of his guilt. But why? Why was Ross Kincaid doing this?

"Take it easy there, Bart," snapped Doc, "can't you see, the Marshal's hurt?" With a scowl, he pushed the clerk aside and bent down to help Matt up.

Slowly, aided by his friend, the lawman struggled to his feet. He was still feeling somewhat dizzy and for a moment, he tottered unsteadily. Clinging to the physician's shoulder for support, he quickly regained his balance. Now, for the first time, he looked up and let his gaze sweep over the crowd that seemed to be growing bigger by the minute. Nobody spoke a word; the people were simply staring at him, their faces reflecting a mixture of emotions, ranging from disbelief to disappointment, to open hatred. Matt couldn't believe that this was happening to him.

"Doc," called Mr. Jonas as he motioned the physician to come over.

Bart Anderson's revolver digging into his back, Matt watched as the doctor joined the animated conversation that was taking place between a handful of men that had apparently taken charge of the situation.

Finally, after what seemed a long time, the physician broke away. "Matt," he said when he came back over, "I want you to stay calm now...they're gonna take you over to your office an; lock you up-" Doc tugged at his earlobe and not sure what else to say, lapsed into thoughtful silence.

That's the last thing Matt wanted to happen; he had to go after Kincaid. "Look...I know Kincaid set me up," he began urgently but Anderson suddenly prodded him in the back with his gun. "Let's go, Marshal-" he snapped impatiently.

That was a mistake. Right away, the Marshal stiffened. His fists clenched, he fought to stop himself from yanking the gun from the freight clerk's hand.

"Now take it easy there, Matt-" Doc quickly intervened when he saw the anger flaring up in the lawman's eyes. "By golly,...do as they say...we'll get this sorted out-" He firmly put his hand on the Marshal's forearm to emphasize his words.

Matt slowly relaxed a little-Doc was right; it wouldn't help matters any if he lost his temper now. He had to restrain himself, as difficult as it might be.

With Anderson's gun prodding him along, he began to walk slowly towards the crowd, the physician at his side.

Just when he thought that things couldn't get any worse, the mob suddenly parted and Kitty emerged from it, rushing straight towards him.

She stopped a few feet in front of him, her eyes quickly taking in the scene before her. "What's this all about, Matt?" she wondered uneasily, "Kincaid's over at the Long Branch, telling everyone that you-" She suddenly broke off when she saw the blood which had trailed down the side of his face from the blow to his head. "Matt?" she now pleaded anxiously, taking another hesitant step towards him. The look in his eyes outright scared her.

Not knowing what to say, the Marshal chewed on the inside of his cheek and maintained a tense silence.

"He killed Aggie Conlan, Miss Kitty-" volunteered the freight clerk now eagerly.

The words hit her like a slap and Kitty staggered back. Suddenly, she noticed what her eyes had failed to see earlier-the body lying in the shadows of the livery stable. "No," she muttered, shaking her head, "this can't be-" She stared at Anderson for a second, then back at Matt. Now that she was looking closer at him, she noticed his disheveled appearance; his shirt was untucked and torn down the front, hanging half-way off his shoulder, almost as if he had been in a scuffle and for some reason his belt was unbuckled. Her heart almost skipped a beat when she saw the bloody striations on his cheek-there was little doubt as to what they were.

Kitty stood trembling as she gazed into his eyes. "No," she said, her voice a broken whisper now. "Matt?"

He felt a tight knot forming inside his stomach and tried to say something but before he could, Bart nudged him impatiently with the gun. "Come on...get movin'...I'm sure you know the way, Marshal-"

Matt swallowed hard and began to walk again, parting the crowd as he passed through. He could feel the eyes of the mob burning on him as they began to whisper to each other.

Numbly, Kitty stared after him, barely aware of Doc's comforting hand on her arm.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Chester was already aware of the crowd moving towards the Marshal's office before he could even see them; Louie Pheeters had come stumbling into the jail a few minutes ago, muttering something about the Marshal being in trouble. Even though Louie was drunk-as he almost always was at this time of night-Chester had known him long enough to realize that he wasn't simply making it up.

Not quite sure of what to do, he had grabbed the shotgun off the wall rack and now he stood nervously on the small front porch of the jail, watching with uncertainty as the mob came up Front Street.

It was a strange procession; apparently, half the town had joined in, many of them carrying torches and rifles. The flames were throwing ghostly shadows onto the buildings as they passed by, adding to the strangeness of the situation. The Marshal's assistant recognized a lynching party when he saw one and he became even more nervous.

By now, they had almost reached the office and he could make out the tall figure of the Marshal walking at the front. For a short moment, Chester thought that Louie had been wrong, but as he was about to walk up to him, he suddenly noticed Bart Anderson following behind, his gun pointing straight at the Marshal's back.

"Well, for goodness sakes-" muttered Chester, tightening his grip on the shotgun.

The crowd had now come to a stop a few feet from him and Chester could clearly see the Marshal's grim face in the flickering light of the torches. There was a trail of dried blood crusted to the right side of his face and he knew immediately, that something was more than wrong.

"Mr.Dillon?" he inquired hesitantly, a look of tense apprehension on his face.

"It's all right...take it easy, Chester," said the Marshal, nodding assuringly, "I want you to put that gun down-" The last thing he wanted to happen, was more blood being shed; besides, he knew that Chester wouldn't stand a chance against half of Dodge.

The young man didn't understand immediately. "But, Mr. Dillon-" he said confused, his eyes now shifting to Doc Adams who was standing beside the Marshal.

"Go on,...do as Matt says," the doctor urged him. There was something in the physician's voice that told Chester not to question him and he obliged. Slowly, the muzzle of his rifle dipped towards the ground as his eyes continued to wander anxiously over the crowd.

Anderson prodded the Marshal along towards the jail and immediately, the mob pushed forward, trying to follow. Quickly, Doc stepped up onto the boardwalk and raised his hands.

"Now you listen to me...all of you-" he shouted above their murmuring. "You all know that Matt Dillon's brought the law with him when he came to Dodge six years ago-most of you won't need any help rememberin' how things used to be-" He paused, rubbed his neck and then went on. "Now I know how bad this might look to most of you...but let me tell you-things aren't always the way they appear-" The people began to murmur louder now and Doc raised his voice. "The law's the same for everybody-Marshal or not...we're fixin' to telegraph the Sheriff in Hays an' we're gonna get this straightened out, but, by golly... I'm not about to let you take the law into your own hands-"

When he had finished, he pursed his lips, casting an uneasy look at the crowd; they all seemed to be talking at the same time now. He turned to the Marshal's assistant.

"Any of them try somethin'- you shoot them, Chester!" he growled before he disappeared into the office.

"Yes, Doc...don't you worry none-" The young man was still bewildered by all this but his face was set in determination and he stood firm, not relaxing his defensive pose, his eyes firmly fixed on the crowd.

When Doc Adams stepped inside the office, he saw that Anderson had already put Matt into the jail cell next to Reuben Tanner. He shuffled over, about to enter the cell when the freight clerk grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him. "Wait,...what do you think you're doin', Doc?"

This was the wrong thing to do-angrily Doc brushed his hand off and glared at him, his bushy eyebrows knitted into a frown. "Why,...get your hands off me!" he snapped, "I'm fixin' to take a look at Matt's head and don't you try to stop me!"

Without paying further attention to the other man, he yanked the door open and marched into the cell.

"All right,"grumbled Anderson, realizing that Doc Adams had already gotten his way. "But I'll be havin' an eye on you," he then added in an attempt to save face.

"Yeah, yeah-"grumbled Doc, waving him off impatiently as he plopped his bag onto the bunk. He turned to Matt who was sitting in silence, his elbows propped up on his thighs, cradling his head in his hands.

The Marshal jerked as Doc's fingers tried to examine the blood-encrusted gash above his temple. "Never mind about that-" he muttered crossly, pulling away.

But Doc wasn't one to easily give up. "For heaven's sakes, will you stop that?" he groused, now holding on to Matt's head with both hands, "how, in thunder, am I s'posed to get a good look with you fidgetin' about like that?"

Matt exhaled loudly, about to retort when he was suddenly interrupted by Reuben Tanner. The farmer was grabbing the cell bars with both hands and pressed his face against them. "How does it feel, Marshal," he hissed, "a-sittin' in yer own jail? I knewd all along you done it...too bad they didn't do away with ya...now I'm gonna-" he didn't get any further-Suddenly, Doc Adams wheeled around, glaring at him.

"Let me tell ya somethin', Tanner-" he growled, angrily wagging his finger at the farmer, determined to give him a good piece of his mind. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and-reconsidered. "Oh,...why don't you jus' shut up-" he then said, shaking his head in disgust. Without paying the farmer any more mind, he shifted his attention back to the Marshal; he had better things to do than waste his time on Reuben Tanner.

The doctor pulled the spectacles from his vest pocket and put them on. "You wanna tell me exactly what happened out there?" he began to question the Marshal, keeping his voice low as he began to examine the gash.

Ignoring Tanner's continued ranting, Matt began to tell him what had happened as far as he could remember. When he had finished, the physician nodded thoughtfully. "Matt," he said, "you know I believe ya...but I'm not sure how we're gonna convince those tinhorn lugheads out there-"

He swiped at his mustache and began to take off his coat. After rolling up his shirt sleeves, he bent down to rummage through his leather bag. When his hands emerged seconds later, they were holding a surgical needle and some sutures.

"Now you just hold still there, so I can stitch you up," he said sternly when he saw that Matt was about to protest.

It didn't take long for Doc's experienced fingers to sew the gash up. The Marshal's hands were gripping the edge of the bunk tightly and he gritted his teeth when he felt the needle penetrate his scalp. The pain wasn't bad enough though to distract his mind completely. He knew, he had to get out of here as quickly as possible and find Kincaid-it was the only way he could prove his innocence. Kincaid was most likely feeling pretty safe now, knowing that he was in jail, Matt figured. His face hardened at the thought of what this man had done; first Betsy Tanner and now Aggie Conlan-and why?

A sharp pain as Doc knotted the last suture, jolted him back from his thoughts and he inhaled sharply.

"There," the physician nodded, satisfied with the result of his work, "that oughtta do it-"

"Doc," Matt now whispered urgently, "you know that I can't stay in here-"

The physician studied him for a moment. "I know," he replied softly as he began to put his coat on. He reached for his bag and then cast the Marshal a meaningful look. "I'll see what I can do, Matt-"

With that, he stepped from the cell. Immediately, Bart Anderson shouldered his way past him and slammed the door shut.

The scratching sound of the key as it turned in the lock sent a chill down Matt's spine; he had heard the sound hundreds of times before but it definitely sounded different when you were on the other side of the door.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The crowd outside the Marshal's office was slowly beginning to thin out as people had begun to give Doc Adam's words some serious consideration; most of them had known the Marshal as unwavering in his sense for justice and they began to have serious doubts as to his guilt. Soon, there were only a few remaining. Chester noticed one in particular; the young woman with the red hair was now coming straight towards him.

He relaxed and pointed the muzzle of his shotgun towards the ground, watching as she approached. But as she came closer, two men suddenly stepped in front of her. "Sorry, Miss Kitty," one of them addressed her, "but we cain't let ya go in there-"

For a brief moment, she simply glared at the man, her eyes challenging him, then her face slowly darkened. "You just try and stop me-" Kitty hissed icily; she was in no mood for this. Resolutely, she pushed him aside and was about to walk on, when he unexpectedly grabbed her arm. But before he could say anything, Chester had already pushed his way between them, forcing the man to let go.

"Well, now that ain't no way to treat a lady-" he fussed, shooting him an angry look.

For a moment, the cowboy sized Chester up then he shrugged and stepped aside. "Well, have it your way then, Goode-" he muttered and walked away.

Kitty brushed off her sleeve. "Is he inside, Chester?" she wanted to know, her face still tight with anger.

"Why,...yes, Miss Kitty," he replied, "but I sure wish'd, I knewd what's goin'on an' all... they been a-treatin' poor Mr. Dillon some terrible-" Chester was limping alongside her, struggling to keep up with her determined stride.

She was furious; as soon as Doc had finished explaining to her what had happened, she remembered some of the things that Kincaid had said at the Long Branch earlier and she began to put two and two together. The fact that she was also ashamed for doubting Matt even for a moment, didn't exactly help her mood either.

The four men standing guard outside the Marshal's office had witnessed the whole scene and now respectfully moved aside for her as she advanced on them.

Resolutely, she pushed the door open and stopped on the threshold, surveying the office; her eyes quickly found what she was looking for and she marched straight over to the cells.

There was a long silence as she beheld the man she loved. He was sitting slumped forward, his forearms resting on his thighs.

Slowly, Matt lifted his head when he became aware of her probing eyes on him. Neither one of them spoke. Their gazes met and Kitty bit her lip when she saw the pain in his eyes. Her anger dissipated immediately.

"Kitty," he began, "I know-" but she cut him off in mid-sentence. "Kincaid's leaving town tomorrow, Matt," she moved closer as she spoke. "I overheard him talking to one of my girls...he says his business in Dodge here is about done-"

He regarded her surprised; that wasn't at all what he had expected from her. Relieved, he rose from his bunk and stepped up to the bars, wrapping his hands around them. "I can't let him do that, Kitty-" His eyes quickly shot over to where Bart Anderson was sitting behind the desk-_his desk_, casting them a watchful look every now and then.

He lowered his voice even more. "I can get him, Kitty, but I need your help-"

She quickly glanced over at Bart and turning back to Matt, nodded slightly.

"Listen to me," he whispered, "you think you can you keep an eye on him?" His mind was working feverishly; he had to find a way out of here as quickly as possible, but until then it was important that Kincaid wouldn't leave Dodge.

"I could try keeping him at the Long Branch," suggested Kitty now.

"Yeah...I' spose you could-" He nodded reluctantly, not liking the idea at all-he knew what Kitty would have to do and the thought of her sharing a drink or two with this murderer made him feel sick to his stomach. His gaze wandered around the office and he noticed Chester busying himself at the stove making coffee again while Doc was rummaging through his bag.

As if he could feel Matt's eyes on him, the physician suddenly looked up, tossing him a meaningful look, accompanied by a brief nod before turning his attention back to his bag.

The Marshal understood immediately; Doc had a plan. Good. He began to relax a little. "You know..." he now said to Kitty, "for a moment there, I wasn't so sure-" he hesitated and Kitty finished the sentence for him. "...whether I'd still believe you?" She had a bemused smile on her lips. "You still don't know much about women, do you?" There was a faint twinkle in her eyes and he gave her a brief smile despite himself. "Yeah,...I guess," he admitted and then quickly added, "but I'm learnin'-"

For a moment, Matt regarded her affectionately and then he turned serious again. "Well,...you better go on back to work-" He wasn't sure what Doc was up to, but he knew that he didn't want Kitty around when it happened.

She nodded and gave his hand, which was still wrapped around the cell bars, a tender pat. As she was about to turn, his voice suddenly stopped her. "Kitty...it's gonna be all right-"

With mixed emotions, Matt watched her leave.

"How's that coffee comin' along, Chester? I sure could use some-" Bart's voice called from behind the desk.

Curiously, the Marshal watched as Doc gave his assistant a hand in filling the cups with the steaming brew.

"Comin' right up, Mr. Anderson," Chester replied cheerfully.

A little too cheerfully, Matt thought to himself-and since when was Doc so fond of Chester's coffee anyway? Puzzled, he watched as Doc now approached the cells, carrying a cup of coffee. For a second, he thought it was for him and he was about to tell Doc that he didn't want it but the physician stopped in front of Tanner's cell.

"Go on, Tanner...here ya go," he reached through the bars, holding the cup out.

The farmer regarded the doctor suspiciously for a moment; his hand frozen in mid-air, he hesitated.

"What's the matter...it ain't poisoned, you know-" groused Doc indignantly. When the farmer still didn't make a move, the doctor began to pull his hand back. "Well...suit yerself then-" he grumbled, but before he had a chance to do so, Tanner quickly grabbed the cup.

Matt couldn't help but notice the satisfied smile that flashed across Doc's face as Tanner took his first sip.

He knew right there and then that his friend had something up his sleeve and he decided that he definitely didn't want a cup right now.

The physician cast him a brief glance as he passed his cell. "Just a matter of time, Matt-" he said with a wink before he shuffled off.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

By now, it was almost midnight. Bart Anderson stifled a yawn and stretched. He was too tired to notice the two pairs of eyes that were watching him intently.

Doc Adams and Chester were sitting at the old wooden table, half-heartedly engaged in a game of checkers. Every so often, Doc pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time, his eyes quickly stealing a glance at Anderson over the rims of his spectacles.

As the time passed slowly, the Marshal became more restless and he had taken to pacing the floor of his cell. Never before had he considered its small size, but now he was all too aware of it. He cast a look at the man in the cell next to him; Reuben Tanner was sound asleep on his bunk, snoring loudly.

Suddenly, a loud thud made Matt look up; Anderson had slipped off the chair and was now sprawled out underneath the desk.

"By, golly...about time," exclaimed Doc relieved as he pushed back his chair and shuffled over to Bart.

He stooped down and quickly pulled the clerk's eyelid up. "Out like a light," he observed satisfied, looking up at Chester. "Go ahead,...get Matt outta there-" He nodded towards the cells.

The Marshal's assistant didn't need to be told twice; he hurried over and pulled the keys off the peg. A moment later, the Marshal stepped out from his confinement. "Some coffee, Doc," he said with a grin as he reached for his gunbelt and began to buckle it up.

"Oh, I don't know...Chester's coffee coulda done just as fine a job without my laudanum," replied Doc gruffly, tugging at his earlobe.

"Well..., now that ain't a nice thing to say, Doc," complained Chester immediately, shooting him a rather insulted look. He would have gone on but the Marshal quickly stopped him.

"Now take it easy, there Chester," Matt calmed him, holding up a hand to stop the flow of words. "Go check the backdoor for me, will ya-" he then added, jerking his head towards the door.

With a nod and a 'yes,sir', Chester did as he was asked.

Matt finished holstering up his colt and began to tuck his shirt in. He frowned a little when he noticed the big tear down the front of it but there was nothing he could do about it now.

Doc cleared his throat, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "Well,...I done all I could-the rest's up to you now, Matt-"

The Marshal's face darkened as he thought of Ross Kincaid; thanks to him, he had lost the trust of his town and what was even worse, one woman was dead and one was injured and he still didn't know why. Kincaid had the answer and Matt was going to make sure he would get it. "Don't worry, Doc-" His jaw tightened and his face took on a determined expression as he strode over to the backdoor.

"Ain't nobody out there, Mr. Dillon," Chester now exclaimed as he held the door for the Marshal, "I reckon, you still don't want me to come along-"

"No...no, Chester you better stay here-" Matt gave him a quick clap on the shoulder and was about to step through the door, when Doc called out to him. "Matt," he said as he sniffed and quickly swiped at his mustache, "try bein' careful out there, will ya?"

"I aim to, Doc," the Marshal assured him before disappearing into the darkness.

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Ross Kincaid was satisfied with himself; his plan had worked out exactly as he had hoped it would. Now all that was left for him to do, was collect the remainder of the money due to him upon completion of his assignment and then he would leave this god-forsaken cattle town. As long as the money was right, he didn't care who he hurt or killed, as long as the money was right, he didn't ask any questions.

He leisurely strolled along the boardwalk towards the Dodge House; he was feeling slightly lightheaded from all the whiskey and beer that he had. That pretty redhead had certainly tried her best at keeping him there, buying him drinks and all, he mused and for a brief moment, he regretted that he didn't stay to find out how far she would have been willing to go.

He grinned at the thought; that really would have done it to Dillon-he was well aware that she was the Marshal's woman; well, he might still pay her a visit tomorrow before leaving town, he thought to himself.

Kincaid was about to step off the boardwalk and cross the deserted street when he suddenly saw something moving in the shadow of the alley beside the Dodge House.

Immediately, he became alert. Pushing his jacket back to allow him quick access to his gun, he continued to walk down the boardwalk. When he had passed the Dodge House, Kincaid crossed the street. His eyes were fixed on the hotel and he wondered, who might be laying in wait for him there.

The first person that came to his mind, was Dillon's crippled assistant; he gave a derisive snort at the thought-obviously fiercely loyal but not too bright that young man, he mused. He certainly wouldn't have trouble handling him.

When he had reached the doors of the hotel, he slowed his step. Pulling the gun from its holster, he cautiously began to approach the alley to his right.

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Matt quietly slipped around the back of the Marshal's office; he knew that he couldn't allow himself to be seen by anybody-at least not yet.

He was relieved to find the night dark and moonless; it would definitely make it easier for him to keep himself concealed. His thoughts drifted to the man he was after; by now, it was almost one o' clock in the morning and the Long Branch would be closing soon. The best thing to do, he figured, was to wait for Kincaid outside the Dodge House.

With careful steps, he made his way through the back alleys, cautiously avoiding the people that were leaving the saloons and other establishments along Front Street.

Soon, he found himself in the side alley next to the hotel; he crouched behind a wagon that was sitting alongside the wall; from here he had a good view of the street and all he had to do now, was wait.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Everything was quiet and the streets had finally emptied themselves as the last of the patrons had found their way home.

Ross Kincaid stood still; he strained his ears, listening intently into the alley. Nothing. It was almost too quiet as far as he was concerned and he could almost sense the imminent danger ahead.

With his back pressed against the wall of the Dodge House, he slowly began to inch forward. He tightened the grip on his gun when he came to the corner of the building. Taking a few slow breaths to calm the tension that was beginning to build up inside, he readied himself.

With incredible speed, he suddenly jumped from his cover and opened fire into the alley.

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He wasn't sure, how much time had passed but the Marshal was beginning to feel restless crouching behind the wagon; what if he had been wrong and Kincaid was somewhere else? Still at the Long Branch perhaps? The thought left him with a bad feeling-

He was about to give the matter further thought, when the silence was abruptly broken by the sharp crack of gunfire.

In a flash, Matt threw himself to the ground; he could feel the bullet whizzing by, barely missing his head by inches. Realizing, that the wagon was hardly adequate cover, he began to retreat, hastily crawling backwards on the dusty ground as more shots were fired in his direction.

Luckily, he made it around the corner without being hit. Momentarily safe behind the building, he quickly jumped to his feet. That was close; a little too close, he thought to himself as he drew his colt.

Matt couldn't understand, how he had missed Kincaid; it seemed that the man had turned the tables on him, taking him by surprise instead.

Carefully, he attempted to look around the corner; as he did, another bullet struck the corner of the building, embedding itself in the wood with a dull thunk.

The Marshal had enough; he took a deep breath and pressed his lips together as he flattened himself against the building, the colt ready in his hand.

With a movement, almost too swift to follow, he came around the corner, firing at the same time.

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Kincaid was angry at himself that he had underestimated his opponent; he had realized quickly that it couldn't possibly have been the crippled Marshal's assistant-his opponent was moving too fast. Whoever it was, he was obviously waiting for him around the back.

He aimed one more shot at the corner and then quickly withdrew to the front of the Dodge House.

By now, the commotion in the street had woken up most of the people at the hotel and the surrounding buildings; lamps were being lit everywhere, casting their glow out into the streets and the alley.

Kincaid pushed open the doors and stepped inside. His cold gaze quickly took in the confused thong of people, standing on the stairs and in the lobby, most of them wearing their night clothes. When they became aware of the gun in his hand, they all quickly began to scatter.

A contemptuous laugh escaped his lips and Kincaid moved to position himself in a corner by the window from where he had a good view of the door.

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Matt wasn't surprised to find Kincaid gone; he had figured that the other man would do just that.

Slowly, his gun still aimed at the corner, he took a few cautious steps. But halfway down the alley he began to reconsider; Kincaid most likely would expect him to come around the front. He decided, to do just the opposite; he turned around and quickly made his way around the back of the hotel.

When he had reached the other side, he slowly advanced towards the front corner and glanced around it; Kincaid was nowhere to be seen. There were, however, several people standing in the street, curious to find out what the noise was all about.

He quickly pulled back into the shadow of the alley; this was getting more complicated by the minute, he realized with a stab of frustration.

Suddenly, his eyes fell on one of the bottom floor windows-if Kincaid was in the lobby, the best way of apprehending him would be if he caught him off guard.

Matt carefully tried the window. It was unlocked and pushed up easily.

Seconds later, the tall man had squeezed himself through and now found that he was standing inside the small hotel office. He strained his eyes to penetrate the darkness; there was a desk over to his right and a little to the left of it, was the door leading into the lobby.

Slowly, his left hand turned the door knob and the door opened silently. As he peeked through the crack, he saw Kincaid; the gunman had his back turned to him.

Unaware of the Marshal's presence, Kincaid was leaning casually against the wall by the window, watching the front doors. Carelessly, he now threw the remains of his cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with the heel of his boot.

The Marshal let his eyes sweep over the lobby; he was relieved to find that Kincaid was the only one present.

Matt took a deep breath and readied himself; his muscles tensed as his fingers closed on the grip of his colt. He knew he was taking a chance but he had to get Kincaid alive-dead, he wouldn't do him any good.

"Hold it there, Kincaid!" With one fluid motion, he suddenly kicked the door open, lifted his gun and took aim at the other's back.

Any normal man would have heeded his words; not so Ross Kincaid-with an agility, that even surprised the Marshal, the man dropped himself to the floor, rolled around and began to shoot into Matt's direction.

He had anticipated the attack and lurched sideways, but he was a fraction too slow; the lawman felt Kincaid's bullet strike his arm, seconds before he was able to pull the trigger himself-

The colt dropped from his hand, landing on the wooden floor with a thud as he staggered backwards into the door. Instinctively, he draped his left hand over the wound, the sleeve of his light blue shirt quickly turning red where the bullet had struck him.

It took Matt second to recover and his now eyes darted from Kincaid down to his colt, lying only a few feet in front of him. With a speed, born from desperation, he lunged himself at it.

He almost made it; his fingertips touched the grip, just as the tip of Kincaid's boot connected with the colt, sending it scooting across the floor and out of his reach.

Lying on his stomach, Matt slowly pushed himself up on his hands and looked up into the other man's face. A horrible sinking feeling began to spread through his insides as Kincaid's cold eyes triumphantly stared down at him. "You shoulda listened and minded your own business, Dillon...now I'm gonna have to kill you-" His eyes were cruel and deadly-as deadly as the gun that was now pointed straight at Matt's head.

A satisfied grin began to slowly spread across Kincaid's face as his thumb pulled back the hammer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Click. The sound that Kincaid's gun made when he pulled the trigger, seemed almost mocking as it cut through the silence.

Click. Click. Click.

Slowly, Matt lifted his head. The expression on Kincaid's face was one of disbelief and rage as he once again pulled the trigger. Matt flinched, cold sweat trickling from his brow.

Click.

_The gun. Kincaid's gun was empty_. The realization suddenly hit him and immediately Matt seized the opportunity-swiftly, he sprang to his feet and hurled himself at the other man.

Staring at his empty gun in disbelief, Kincaid was momentarily caught off guard as the Marshal slammed into him, knocking them both to the ground. But the gunman recovered quickly and his right hand, still gripping the colt, now came smashing down hard on Matt's shoulder.

With a grunt of pain, the Marshal tumbled off his opponent and before he had a chance to get back on his feet, the other man was suddenly on top of him. His face contorted with fury, Kincaid swung his arm back, ready to crack Matt's skull open with the now otherwise useless revolver.

The Marshal realized immediately what he was about to do and his hands shot up, clamping themselves tightly around Kincaid's forearm, forcing the other man's arm to a halt, only inches from his face. Matt groaned with the effort; the warm, slick blood that covered his hand made it difficult for him to hold on.

Kincaid struggled, furiously trying to free his arm but Matt was beginning to gain the upper hand, steadily pushing the gun further away from his face. He was breathing hard, his hands shaking in exertion. With one last desperate effort, he finally succeeded and sent Kincaid's arm crashing down hard onto the wooden floor. The gun flew from his grasp and he yelled out in surprise and pain.

Ross Kincaid was a tough man as Matt quickly came to realize. He unexpectedly swung out with his left and landed a powerful blow to the lawman's temple which left him dazed for a second or two.

That was enough time for Kincaid to surge to his feet and pull a knife from his boot. Breathing raggedly, he wielded the deadly blade in his right, glaring at Matt from vicious eyes.

The Marshal jumped to his feet; his legs spread apart for better balance, he was slightly crouching, a look of intense focus on his face. He was still feeling a little dizzy from the blow to his head and the throbbing pain in his injured arm was becoming harder to ignore by the moment.

Slowly, the two men began to circle around each other; Kincaid lunged at him several times without much success-every time he did, Matt jumped back, his arms slightly raised, skillfully avoiding the sharp knife.

The gunman was beginning to get tired of the game; his attacks were getting bolder and faster, driven by pure rage instead of calculated sense.

The next time he charged, the Marshal ducked away and, whirling around, was able to take hold of Kincaid's knife arm. Immediately, the gunman's left went for Matt's throat, wrapping itself around it tightly.

Matt began to cough, desperately trying to pry Kincaid's fingers away with one hand while he used the other one to keep the knife from getting any closer to his stomach.

By now, their faces were only inches from each other; Ross Kincaid's eyes were glinting madly as he put the last of his strength into attempting to drive the blade into Matt's stomach. He was grunting with the effort and saliva was spraying from his lips.

The Marshal could feel the sharp knife slowly slicing through his shirt; the sensation of the cold blade against his skin send a new surge of strength through his body and he tightened the grip on Kincaid's wrist, keeping the hand wielding the blade from moving any further

Suddenly, a shot rang out and his opponent stiffened; the hand around his neck loosened and Matt found himself staring in Kincaid's eyes, now wide with disbelief.

He began to sway slightly and staggered forward against the Marshal. The knife slipped from his grasp and landed on the floor with a loud clutter. Matt tried to hold on, but before he could get a grip on him, the man had slipped through his fingers and crumpled to the floor.

A moan escaped the Marshal's lips; he needed Kincaid alive. Quickly, his eyes scanned the room and came to rest on a man standing on the steps, still holding a rifle in his hands.

Matt shifted his attention back to Kincaid and dropped to his knees beside him. He turned the gunman over on is back and grabbed him by the front of his shirt.

"Kincaid-why?" he whispered hoarsely, trying to force the gunman to focus on him, but one look into Ross Kincaid's veiled eyes told Matt that he was dying.

The breath was coming in ragged gasps from his lips as he opened his mouth and a fine trickle of blood began to run down the side of it, pooling and soaking into his shirt collar. His voice was merely a whisper as he spoke. "Dillon...I-I didn't...didn't get...paid...to kill ya-only to- " He swallowed, "make it look...you did it-" Suddenly, his body went rigid, his eyes opened wide for a second and then he went limp.

_That was it. Now he would probably never know why._ Matt closed his eyes in frustration and slowly withdrew his hand from Kincaid's shirt. He took a slow breath before opening them again. As he looked up, he realized that half the town must have tried to make their way into the Dodge House; the lobby was filled with people regarding him and the dead man silently.

Unbeknownst to him, Doc Adams had pushed his way through the crowd and now came rushing towards him.

Matt looked up. "It's too late, Doc-"

The physician could hear the disappointment in his voice and knew at once that the Marshal had not been able to get any information from Kincaid. He pushed his hat back and scratched his head. "Golly, Matt,...I'm sorry." His eyes wandered to the body, sprawled out before him and suddenly, something sticking out from Kincaid's coat pocket caught his eye; he nudged the Marshal, pointing it out to him.

"Well,...I'll be...will you look at that-" he muttered startled when Matt pulled a US Marshal's badge, identical to his own, from the dead man's pocket.

Slowly, the Marshal lifted it up, regarding it closely.

There was murmuring among the people when they began to realize the significance of the find.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

"Come, on...I feel all right, Doc-" Matt insisted for the umpteenth time as he tried once again to get off the exam table in Doc's office.

"Doggone it, Matt...you just stay put there and let ME tell you how you feel-" the physician groused as he put his hand on the Marshal's shoulder and pushed him back down. Muttering under his breath, he continued to clean the small cut on Matt's stomach that Kincaid's knife had left there.

The Marshal made a face but finally complied; he knew that angering Doc wouldn't get him anywhere-the physician usually ended up having the last word anyway. His mind now turned to the recent events at the Dodge House; even though he and Doc had been able to convince the people that Kincaid had been indeed the one responsible for the attacks, he had a feeling that this was far from being over. He was still upset that he had not managed to take Kincaid alive; one of the guests at the Dodge House had shot him in the back and Ross Kincaid had died before Matt had been able to question him. The gunman had, however, hinted to him that someone had paid him for making the attacks look as if they were the Marshal's doing.

The creaking as the office door was being opened, made him now look up; it was Kitty. Her face bore a worried expression as she rushed across the room. "Chester told me what happened-" She stopped at the foot of the exam table when she saw that Doc wasn't finished with him yet.

Matt regarded her with a smile. He noticed that even though it was by now well past two in the morning, she still wore her work clothes and he knew at once that she hadn't been to bed. He motioned her closer and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I'm all right, Kitty," he attempted to put her worries a tease and then paused, now casting the physician a quick sideglance before adding, "if you wanna believe me...cause Doc over here sure won't-"

"Don't you be smart with me, Mr. Marshal-"came the immediate reply from the doctor as he began to threateningly wave a pair of forceps in front of Matt's face.

Matt pushed up on his elbows and watched as Doc now shuffled over to his desk. "You through?" he called after him.

"Oh...get outta here-"groused the physician in retort, waving his hand dismissively.

"Well,...looks like I'm found fit for duty," Matt concluded with a grin as sat up.

Kitty raised her eyebrows but refrained from reprimanding him. She watched him clamber to his feet, tuck in his shirt and then strap on his gunbelt. "Something's still not right, Matt, isn't it?" She then said into the silence.

He didn't look up and continued to fasten the buckle. "Well...Kincaid's dead, Kitty but I have a feelin' there's a lot more to this-"

"What do you mean by that?" She now regarded him curiously.

Matt straightened and began to roll the bloody sleeve over the bandages on his arm. "It looks as if someone paid Kincaid to do this-"

Kitty arched her eyebrows in surprise. "Paid him?" she echoed his words.

"Look...that's all I know," Matt replied, sounding slightly frustrated as he finished buttoning up his shirt.

He crossed over to the door and grabbed his Stetson from Doc's coat rack. "Come on...I'll walk you home," he now said in a softer tone when he noticed the frown on her face.

"I'll be at my office, Doc," he called towards the doctor's bedroom, his hand cupping Kitty's elbow.

"Fine...and I'll be here sleepin'-" came the gruff reply.

The streets were now once again deserted and the moon had finally begun to peek through the shredded clouds as the couple made its way down to the Long Branch. When they had reached the sidedoor, Matt pulled out his key and unlocked it, holding it open for her to step inside.

"You go on an' get yourself some sleep, Kitty," he told her when she looked at him inquiringly, wondering why he wasn't following. "I better be at the office when Anderson comes to...no tellin' what he's gonna do to Chester when he finds out what he an' Doc did to him-" He gave a little chuckle, remembering how Doc had laced Bart's coffee with laudanum, a potent sleeping powder.

Kitty nodded understandingly. "All right, cowboy...I see you in the morning then-" She stepped up to him and placed her hands on his waist as their lips met for a quick kiss.

"Night, Kitty," said Matt softly as he watched her disappear into the dark hallway.

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When he walked into the Marshal's office a few minutes later, he found Bart Anderson still fast asleep on the floor. Chester was over by the buckstove, trying unsuccessfully to put the little cast-iron door back on which had apparently fallen off once again. "Well, good gravy...what do you make of that? I ain't never seen such thing..." Puzzled, he brought the small door up to his face and began to examine it closely.

When he saw Matt enter, he looked up. "You feelin' all right now, Mr. Dillon?" he inquired, still looking a little concerned.

"I'm fine, Chester," replied Matt, casting a curious glance at the sleeping man under his desk. "Still out, is he-"

"Well,...I been a-wonderin' abou' that myself-you reckon' we oughtta get Doc to take a look at him?" wondered Chester as he now stretched himself, stifling a yawn.

But before Matt could give the matter any consideration, the problem took care of itself as Bart Anderson suddenly began to stir.

At first, he was quite shocked to find the Marshal out of his cell, but with combined efforts and with the help of Kincaid's badge, the two men eventually managed to convince him of Matt's innocence as they had done with most of the townsfolk earlier.

"I'm awful sorry, Marshal, but you hafta understand-" he apologized once again but Matt cut him off.

"Let's just forget about it, Bart," he said, "you men did what you thought was right-" He gave the older man a friendly clap on the shoulder and Bart nodded silently.

"Would you like fer me to fix yens a cup o' coffee or somethin'?" Chester now offered helpfully in an attempt to lighten the mood.

This wasn't the smartest thing to say to Bart Anderson at the moment; the man's face darkened and he cast Chester a sore look. "Oh, no...I ain't touchin' another thing that you had yer hands in-anyways...I reckon' I best git goin'-" The freight clerk headed for the door and the Marshal followed him, seeing the older man out.

"Well, Chester...we might as well get us some rest," suggested Matt wearily when he had finally bolted the door. He stifled a yawn and tiredly ran a hand across his face as he trudged over to his cot.

Reluctantly, Chester limped over to his own cot opposite the Marshal's but didn't sit down; instead, he watched in silence as Mr. Dillon took off the torn shirt and began to rummage through the box under his cot for a new one. When he emerged moments later, a new shirt in his hand, he noticed his assistant squirm nervously.

"What's the matter?" he asked; he knew Chester well enough to know when something was bothering him.

"Well," said the young man slowly, scratching his head, "I was just a-thinkin'...don't ya reckon'one of us oughtta stay up an' keep watch?...I mean, if you think there's gonna be more trouble an' all-"

Matt stopped buttoning his shirt and looked up. "All the more reason to rest up a bit," he mumbled through another yawn, and not paying any more attention to Chester, he stretched himself out on his cot.

"All right then,...I reckon', I might as well- " Hesitantly, his assistant followed suit and plopped down on his cot.

"Yeah,...why don't ya do that," muttered Matt sleepily, trying to make himself comfortable on his lumpy cot; even though Kincaid's bullet had only grazed his arm, the wound was causing him a fair amount of discomfort. After some shuffling, he finally came to rest on his side with his head resting on his left arm.

Unfortunately, the peace didn't last very long; just as the two men had drifted off to sleep, they were unceremoniously roused by a loud banging on the door.

Startled, they both jerked awake.

"All right, all right...I'm comin'-" called Matt irritably when the loud knocking persisted. As he clambered to his feet, he was suddenly overcome by a strange uneasiness.

He unbolted the door and found himself face to face with Lilly, one of Kitty's girls. One look at her told him immediately that something terrible must have happened. The young woman's face was pale and her eyes were wide with fear.

"Marshal...it's Miss Kitty-" was all she could say before collapsing into his arms. Matt caught her by her shoulders and scooping Lilly up, carried her over to his cot.

"Stay with her Chester until she comes to-" he ordered his assistant. In a flash, he had snatched his holster off the peg and strapped it around his waist. Not bothering with tucking his shirt in, he pulled on his boots and bolted out the door into the darkness.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

It was well past three in the morning. Kitty sat up with a sudden start, not sure what had roused her from her sleep. Intently, her eyes began to survey the room. Everything was quiet and seemed in order, yet she couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something wasn't right. Her eyes turned automatically to the left side of the bed. The space beside her which Matt usually took up, was empty and Kitty remembered at once the events that had taken place earlier that night-it only added to the strange uneasiness she now felt.

Pushing the covers back, she eased out of bed and sat on the edge, reaching for her robe.

Kitty stood up and took a few uncertain steps towards the door. Suddenly, she felt as if she was being watched and a surge of fear welled up inside her. She closed her eyes, trying to calm herself; maybe she was just imagining things, she thought. Slowly, she opened them again, her gaze once again searching the semi-darkness of her room. Her heart gave a jolt as a figure now stepped from behind the shadows of her wardrobe.

Stifling a cry, Kitty clasped her hand over her mouth. Illuminated by the pale light of the moon, Kitty could see that it was a woman, quite a bit older than herself and she was holding a Derringer pistol in her right hand.

"Not a word, Miss Russell," hissed the woman in a low voice.

With the initial shock over, Kitty took a closer look at her; her face bore a cold and haughty expression and the moonlight added to her pale complexion, making her look almost white. Her light blue dress was simple yet elegant and Kitty now remembered having seen her in town on several occasions.

Gathering her courage, the redhead addressed her. "Who are you and what do you want?" Her voice was steady despite the fear she felt.

The other woman ignored her question. "You are the Marshal's woman, I heard," she said instead, now disdainfully looking Kitty up and down, "I was hoping to find him here with you-"

That's what it's all about, Kitty suddenly realized-for some reason, this woman was after Matt. Her fear now slowly being replaced by anger, Kitty's eyes narrowed. "He's not here as you can see-why don't you try his office?" she replied coolly. She realized that she was taking a chance by talking to the woman like that, especially, since she was pointing a gun at her but Kitty was too upset to care at the moment.

"I could do that, Miss Russell, but I have a better idea-" There was a wicked glint in her eyes that sent shivers down Kitty's spine. "Why don't we have him come here instead?"

Kitty was puzzled and a frown was beginning to appear on her face. "And what makes you think he would do that?" she challenged.

A terrible smile started to spread across the woman's face. "Well, let's see...if I were to threaten to kill you for one thing-" Leaving her sentence unfinished, she watched Kitty closely for a reaction.

She wasn't disappointed; Kitty suddenly turned pale and swallowed hard, her heart thumping loudly in her chest. "Why are you doing this?" she wanted to know, surprised, at how shaky her voice now sounded.

"Why?...Why? I'll tell you why," the woman spat and Kitty saw immediately, that she had touched a nerve. "Your Marshal is responsible for my son's imprisonment!" Her voice was beginning to get louder and her breathing quickened as she went on. "I told Jeffrey not to go out West...I pleaded with him, but would he listen?...No-he had to come to your god-forsaken cow town and get involved with one of your kind-" She shot Kitty a look of disgust. "It was her own fault that Jeffrey shot her but did your Marshal believe him?" She paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "They convicted him of murder and now he is in prison at Fort Dodge, slowly dying a little more every day without me being able to do anything about it-all I want is justice!" She spat out the last words.

Kitty didn't know what to say; she suddenly remembered who this woman was referring to. About six months ago, a young man by the name of Jeffrey Bancroft had come into Dodge and got romantically involved with Blanche Colburn, one of her girls at the time. Unfortunately, the young man didn't understand the nature of Blanche's work and he shot her in a fit of rage when he found her in a rather cozy situation with another patron. Matt had been at the Long Branch that night and apprehended him; it had been his testimony that got Bancroft convicted. "You are Jeffrey Bancroft's mother-" she said out loud, suddenly realizing who this woman was.

Mrs. Bancroft looked at her coldly. "Well, done, Miss Russell," she said sarcastically. "I would have been satisfied, if the Marshal would have gone to jail for the assault of those women, but no...this idiot Kincaid had to make a mess of things and kill one of them, and then get himself killed-" Mrs. Bancroft motioned Kitty over to the door. "I want you to call one of those girls and send her to get Marshal Dillon-I'm anxious to find out if he is willing to exchange his life for yours-"

Kitty tightened the robe around herself; this woman was clearly out of her mind which made her even the more dangerous-she resigned herself to doing as she was told.

Stiffly, the small Derringer now prodding her in the back, she walked over to the door next to hers and knocked. It didn't take long for Lilly to answer.

The young woman was so frightened that Kitty was afraid, she was going to pass out, but she was able to pull herself together when Kitty addressed her sternly.

When Lilly had left, Kitty turned to Mrs. Bancroft. "Now what?" she asked defiantly.

Vivian Bancroft regarded her with a condescending look. "Now we wait, Miss Russell-"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

The Marshal was racing down the deserted street towards the Long Branch. He had known all along that something was going to happen but he found no satisfaction in seeing his suspicion confirmed. All he could think of was Kitty and he picked up his pace.

When he had almost reached the saloon, he slowed his step. Cautiously, his colt drawn, he stepped closer to the mullioned double doors. His back pressed against the wall, he peered through the colored glass inside; everything seemed normal and quiet at first glance but as his eyes searched the upstairs landing, he was able to make out two figures standing in the doorway of Kitty's room.

He quickly withdrew his head and began to think; he wasn't quite sure what was going on up there but it seemed that Kitty was all right-for now. He was just trying to decide whether he should go around back and enter the saloon through the side door when he saw Chester hobbling towards him, a rifle in his hands.

Immediately, the Marshal stepped away from the saloon doors and walked up to meet him; he didn't want to draw the attention of whoever was inside the Long Branch.

When Chester came to a halt, he was out of breath and quite excited. "Mr. Dillon-" he gasped, pointing toward the Long Branch, "Mr. Dillon...I knew there's gonna be trouble...Lilly jus'came to and she done told me there's a woman in there a-holdin' Miss Kitty... she wants to see you or else she's gonna shoot her-Miss Kitty, that is-"

"A woman?" echoed Matt incredulously; that was the last thing, he expected to hear.

Chester nodded and glanced anxiously over to the saloon. "Oh,...what are we gonna do, Mr. Dillon?"

The Marshal gave the matter quick consideration. "Well, we'll just have to give her what she wants, Chester," he then said, pushing his hat back.

The young man didn't like the idea. "You sure about that? I mean...no tellin' what she's gonna do," he objected carefully.

Silently, Matt agreed but he also realized that this woman was holding Kitty and without seeing who he was up against, it was hard to predict what she was going to do. "Chester,...I want you to go around back...see, if you can get inside from there ...but don't let her see you," he said, pointing to the side alley next to the saloon.

"Yes, sir," answered Chester and quickly began to make his way around the side of the saloon.

The Marshal watched him disappear into the alley then turned around and squaring himself, strode determined towards the front entrance.

He pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the folding doors. Pushing the batwing doors aside, he took a few steps into the dark saloon and then turned his gaze upwards; there, still standing on the threshold of her room, he could see Kitty's outline, illuminated by the moonlight from the window behind her. As he looked a little closer, he now could also see the second woman, standing right behind her.

"Kitty...you all right?" he called out to her.

She could hear the worry in his voice and was about to answer, when a sharp prod from Vivian Bancroft's gun silenced her.

"She will be fine as long as you do as I say, Marshal," the woman said coldly.

Matt didn't like the tone of her voice; he could hear the dangerous determination in it. "What's this all about?" he wanted to know, squinting up into the semi-darkness in hopes of getting a better look at her.

"Take your gun and put it slowly on the floor...and no tricks, Marshal or your woman is going to die-" warned Mrs. Bancroft. When the Marshal hesitated, she dug the barrel of her derringer hard into Kitty's back. Kitty gasped and stumbled forward towards the railing.

Matt pressed his lips together and did as he was told. Slowly, using his thumb and forefinger, he pulled the colt from his holster. Without taking his eyes off the two women, he bent down to lay the revolver on the floor. "All right," he said as he straightened himself again, "now what?"

"Put your hands up and step closer, Marshal," she demanded, "away from that gun-"

Matt raised his eyebrows but obliged; slowly he took a few steps towards the staircase, his hands slightly raised.

"That will suffice-" Vivian Bancroft ordered him.

"What's it that you want?" Matt tried to question her again; so far, he had humored her and he figured, it was about time to get some answers.

There was a long silence. Finally, Vivian Bancroft spoke. "Do you remember Jeffrey Bancroft, Marshal?" she wondered and immediately continued before Matt had time to answer. "He is my son and you put him in prison... all I want is justice...you deserve to be locked up and see how it feels to be imprisoned unjustly-"

Matt couldn't believe his ears and he quickly began to understand what this was all about-revenge.

"That's why you hired Kincaid-" he concluded darkly, quickly piecing the rest of the puzzle together.

A frown darkened Vivian Bancroft's features. "The idiot had to kill that last girl because he allowed her to see his face and we couldn't have that-after all, she was supposed to identify you as her attacker-"

This woman was as cold-blooded as they came, Matt realized grimly and he had absolutely no sympathy for her.

"I would have been satisfied with you going to prison, Marshal," she continued, "but it seems now that I have to change my plans-"

He already had a pretty good idea as to what her plans were and Matt didn't bother asking, instead, he decided it was more important to get her to take the gun away from Kitty.

Deliberately, he took another step forward, slowly lowering his hands. The only way to get the Derringer away from Kitty, was by coaxing Vivian Bancroft into taking a shot at him.

"Stop right there, Marshal," she ordered him when she saw what he was doing.

Matt ignored her warning; his eyes fixed on Mrs.Bancroft, he slowly continued to walk closer towards the bottom of the stairs. He quickly shifted his gaze to Kitty; she was pale but he knew that she was aware of his intentions when she slightly inclined her head towards him.

"One more step and I'll shoot, Marshal-" Vivian Bancroft now threatened, but Matt recognized a faint tremble of fear in the woman's voice.

He took another deliberate step forward, praying that she would move the gun away from Kitty.

"Listen to me," Matt said calmly, his hands loosely at his sides, "it's not too late...put that gun down-" He already figured that she wouldn't heed his words but he had to do everything possible to keep her attention on him.

Matt's words had the desired effect; with a swift motion, Mrs. Bancroft suddenly shifted the gun from Kitty's back and pointed it straight at the Marshal.

Under normal circumstances this would have been quite unsettling, but not so in this case; nevertheless, he didn't underestimate the danger; Matt knew that a Derringer could be as deadly as any other gun but he also knew that the little gun only held two bullets-

"One more step, Marshal-" warned the woman anxiously, adjusting her aim so that the gun pointed straight at his chest.

Matt ignored her words and took one last step.

Without warning, she suddenly pulled the trigger. The roar as the Derringer went off, echoed loudly through the saloon and Matt threw himself to the floor; he could hear the bullet whizzing past him and quickly realized, how close it had come as it struck one of the chairs behind him.

An angry scream, coming from the upstairs, made him suddenly look up.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

The moment Vivian Bancroft pulled the trigger, Kitty flung herself at her; both hands clamped tightly around the other woman's arm, she tried desperately to wrestle the small gun from her grasp before she could fire another shot at the Marshal. A violent scuffle ensued as they both strived to gain control of the Derringer.

Vivian Bancroft realized quickly that Kitty wasn't about to give up-with an angry scream, her left hand suddenly shot out, clawing wildly at Kitty's face. The pain, as the nails dug into her cheek, only spurred Kitty's anger. She quickly withdrew her right hand from the other woman's gun arm and bunching it into a fist, swung back.

It all happened too fast; Kitty's fist flew forward, connecting painfully with Mrs. Bancroft's chin. The force of the impact sent the woman staggering backwards into the railing; her arms flailing about wildly, she tried unsuccessfully to regain her balance. Suddenly, the banister gave way with a loud crunch.

Her eyes widened in surprise, Vivian Bancroft's hands reached out for Kitty, but it was too late; her fingers slipped off Kitty's arm and she fell backwards. With a sickening thud, she landed on one of the tables below, the force of the impact collapsing it.

For a second, everyone was too shocked to move.

The Marshal was the first one to recover; quickly, he jumped to his feet and glanced up at Kitty; seeing that she was all right, he hurried over to where Mrs. Bancroft was sprawled out on her back. He and Chester reached her at the same time.

"My goodness, Mr. Dillon-" was all he could say as he watched the Marshal check her for any life signs.

He was no doctor, but it was obvious that there was nothing that could be done for Vivian Bancroft. Slowly, Matt rose to his feet. "You better go on an' get Doc, Chester," he said somberly.

"Yes, sir," replied the young man quietly and began to limp towards the door.

For a long moment, the Marshal's eyes lingered on the body; he tried to understand the reasoning behind her actions but he simply couldn't. Three people were dead over a young man that as far as he was concerned, should have been hung for his crime in the first place; he had escaped the gallows only because of his family's influence, but apparently, that hadn't been enough for Mrs. Bancroft.

He turned his gaze upwards to the landing; standing motionless and seemingly frozen to the spot, Kitty was still staring down at the body of the other woman. Matt picked his hat off the floor and began to climb the stairs. When he reached her, he gently placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "It's over, Kitty," he said softly.

Slowly, she lifted her head and looked up into his eyes and Matt pressed his lips together when he saw the bloody scratches under her eye. He could feel her body begin to tremble under his hands and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her tightly as she buried her face against his chest.

For a long time, he simply held her as she wept, comfortingly rubbing her back.

Hurried footsteps on the boardwalk outside the saloon soon demanded their attention and Kitty pulled out of Matt's embrace; they watched as Doc and Chester came rushing through the entrance.

With one look, the physician took in the scene and his eyes came to rest on the lifeless figure on the ground. It wasn't necessary for him to ask what had happened-Chester had already filled him in on most of it and he knew, Matt would explain the rest to him.

Kneeling down next to Vivian Bancroft, he began to examine the body while Chester looked on in silence.

Meanwhile, Matt and Kitty had reached the bottom of the stairs; his arm still protectively around her shoulders, he ushered her towards a chair in a corner from where she didn't have to look at the body.

"Well,...seems like the fall broke her neck, Matt," said Doc quietly as he rose from the floor. "Chester, you best go and get Crump over here," he then said to the Marshal's assistant who was standing behind him. Scratching his head, he then turned to the Marshal. "Well?...You jus' gonna stand there or you gonna explain to me what the devil's goin' on here-" he groused when Matt didn't seem to have any intentions of talking.

The physician's voice roused him from his thoughts. "Doc, I want you to take a look at Kitty," he said without answering the physician's question.

Immediately, Doc shifted his attention to the young woman sitting quietly on the chair.

It didn't take him long to examine her and tend to the wound on her cheek while Matt now explained what he had learned from Vivian Bancroft just before she had died.

Doc just shook his head in disbelief. "If that ain't the darnest thing I ever seen-"

Matt simply nodded and they watched solemnly as Chester and Percy Crump began to carry the body from the saloon.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the time the body had been moved and everybody had finally settled back down, the pre-dawn, with its still weak light, had already begun to stretch across the skies.

The only ones left at the Long Branch were the Marshal, Kitty, Chester and Doc. The physician handed Kitty a small envelope. "I want you to take this so you can get yourself some sleep, young lady-"

Kitty looked up and gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, Doc but-"

"Oh, now you wait a minute," he interrupted her, quickly realizing what she was about to say. "Who's the doctor around here? You do as I say-" He threateningly shook his finger at her and Kitty gave him a resigned smile.

"Oh, all right," she mumbled as she rose from the chair and prepared to go upstairs.

"Hold it there," Doc suddenly stopped her, "I have a better idea-" He turned towards the Marshal, running his hand through his mustache. "Matt, why don't you take Kitty upstairs an' while you're at it, see to it that you get some rest, too-" He paused and casting Chester a quick sideglance, then added, "I'm sure Chester can manage to uphold the law in Dodge for a couple of hours without you-"

Doc had figured that Matt could use some sleep as well but probably wouldn't bother with it if he went back to his office.

Matt's ears turned slightly red and he cleared his throat. He lifted his Stetson and quickly ran a hand through his dark hair; never before had Doc so directly hinted at his relationship with Kitty and he felt a little embarrassed by the suggestive remark.

Chester looked puzzled from the physician to Kitty and then to Mr. Dillon. He had already figured out a long time ago that Miss Kitty's room was where the lawman spend most of his nights; even though the Marshal always tried his best to be quiet when he sneaked back into the office-usually before the sun came up, Chester had been well aware of it.

Now he looked at the Marshal, his face suddenly taking on a worried expression.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Chester," fretted Doc when he saw the look on Chester's face, "they're two grown people, you know-"

"Well...I know that, Doc but that ain't what-" the Marshal's assistant began, but the physician cut him off.

"Come on...I'll buy ya breakfast," he said resolutely and grabbing Chester by the sleeve, began to pull him towards the doors.

"That's mighty nice of you, Doc...but-" Chester started again, and turning his head over his shoulder towards the Marshal, he called out to him before the physician had a chance to drag him off. "Mr. Dillon...what am I gonna do with Lilly?...She's still a-sleepin' in your bed an' that might not look so good...if you know what I mean...with her bein' in your bed an'all-"

Doc stopped dead in his tracks, causing Chester to bump into him. "Lilly? What, the thunder's, she doin' in your bed, Matt?" This one, he had to hear.

Chester's comment definitely got Kitty's attention. "Yes,...I'd like to hear that one myself, cowboy-" she challenged. Her arms folded in front of her chest, she regarded him curiously.

Matt looked puzzled; it took him a moment to realize what Chester was talking about. He suddenly remembered having left Lilly on his cot after she had fainted and a look of weary annoyance began to spread across his face. He really didn't feel like explaining himself, after all, what was he supposed to have done with her?

He was about to open his mouth in attempt to defend himself when he noticed the knowing smile on Kitty's face; immediately, he relaxed and turned to the physician, an impish grin now twitching the corners of his mouth. "I let Chester fill you in on it, Doc...I think he spent more time with her than I did-" With that , Matt put his hand on Kitty's shoulder and steered her towards the stairs, leaving a dumb-struck physician and jailer staring after them.

The argument that now ensued between Doc and Chester accompanied the couple up the stairs and ended only when the Marshal loudly closed the door to Kitty's room behind himself.

**The End**


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